Torchy, Private Sec.

  CHAPTER XVII

  MR. ROBERT GETS A SLANT

  It's all wrong, Percy, all wrong. Somebody's been and rung in a reviseon this Romeo dope, and here we find ourselves tryin' to make the CupidExpress on a canceled time-card. What do I mean--we? Why, me and Mr.Robert. Ah, there you go! No, not Miss Vee. She's all right--don'tworry. We're gettin' along fine, Vee and me; that is, so far as we'vegone. Course there's 'steen diff'rent varieties of Vee; but I'm strongfor all of 'em. So there's no room for tragedy there.

  But when it comes to this case of Mr. Robert and a certain party!

  You see, after I've sent him back to Miss Hampton loaded up with allthem wise hints about rushin' her off her feet, and added that hunch asto rememberin' that he has a pair of arms--well, I leave it to you.Ain't that all reg'lar? Don't they pass it out that way in plays andmagazines? Sure! It's the hero with the quick-action strong-arm stuffthat wins out in the big scene. So why shouldn't it work for him?

  I could tell, though, by the rugged set of his jaw as he marches intothe private office next mornin', that it hadn't. I expect maybe he'djust as soon not have gone into the subject then, with me or anyoneelse; but so long as he'd sort of dragged me into this fractured romanceof his I felt like I had a right to be let in on the results. So Ipivots round and springs a sympathetic grin.

  "Did you pull it?" says I.

  He shrugs his shoulders kind of weary. "Oh, yes," says he. "I--er--Ipulled it."

  "Well?" says I, steppin' over and leanin' confidential on the roll-top.

  "Torchy," says he, "please understand that I am in no way censuring you.You--you meant well."

  "Ah, say, Mr. Robert!" says I. "Not so rough. I only gave you the usualget-busy line, and if you went and----"

  "Wasn't there some advice," he breaks in, "about using my arms?"

  "Eh?" says I, gawpin' at him. "You--you didn't open the act by goin' toa clinch, did you?"

  He lets his chin drop and sort of shivers. "I'm afraid I did," says he.

  "Z-z-z-zingo!" I gasps.

  "You see, the part of your suggestions which impressed me most wassomething to that effect, as I recall it. And then--oh, the deuce takeit, I lost my head! Anyway, the next I knew she was in my arms, and I--Iwas----" He ends with a shoulder shrug and spreads out his hands. "Ithought you ought to know," he goes on, "that it isn't being done."

  "But what then?" says I. "Did she hand you one?"

  "No," says he. "She merely slipped away and--and stood laughing at me.She hardly seemed indignant: just amused."

  "Huh!" says I, starin' puzzled. "Then she ain't like any I ever heard ofbefore. Now accordin' to dope she'd either----"

  "Miss Hampton is not a conventional young woman," says he. "She madethat quite plain. It seems, Torchy, that your--er--that my method wassomewhat crude and primitive. In fact, I believe she pointed out thatthe customs of the Stone Age were obsolete. I was given to understandthat she was not to be won in any such manner. Perhaps you can imaginethat I was not thoroughly at ease after that."

  And, honest, I'd never seen Mr. Robert when he was feelin' so low.

  "Gee!" says I. "You didn't quit at that, did you?"

  "Unfortunately no," says he. "Our caveman tactics having failed, I triedthe modern style--at least, I thought I was being modern. The usualthing, you know."

  "Eh?" says I. "Both knees on the rug and the reg'lar conservatory nookwilt-thou-be-mine lines?"

  "I spoke my piece standing," says he, "making it as impassioned andeloquent as I knew how. Miss Hampton continued to be amused."

  "Did you get any hint as to what was so funny about all that?" says I.

  "It appears," says Mr. Robert, "that impassioned declarations areequally out of date--early-Victorian, to quote Elsa exactly. Anyway, shegave me to understand that while my love-making was somewhatentertaining, it was hopelessly medieval. She very kindly explained thatundying affection, tender devotion, and the protection of manly armswere all tommyrot; that she really didn't care to be enshrined queen ofanyone's heart or home. She wishes to avoid any step that may hinder thedevelopment of her own personality. You--er--get that, I trust, Torchy?"

  "Clear as mush," says I. "Was it just her way of handin' you the blueticket?"

  "Not quite," says Mr. Robert. "That is, I'm a little vague as to myexact status myself. I assume, however, that I've been put on probation,as it were, until we become better acquainted."

  "And you're standin' for that, Mr. Robert!" says I.

  He hunches his shoulders. "Miss Hampton has taught me to be humble,"says he. "I don't pretend to understand her, or to explain her. She is abrilliant and superior young person. She has, too, certain advancedideas which are a bit startling to me. And yet, even when she's hurlingBernard Shaw or H. G. Wells at me she--she's fascinating. That quirkysmile of hers, the quick changes of expression that flash into thosebig, china-blue eyes, the sudden lift of her fine chin,--how thoroughlyalive she is, how well poised! So I--well, I want her, that's all. I--Iwant her!"

  "Huh!" says I. "Suppose you happened to get her? What would you----"

  "Heaven only knows!" says he. "The question seems rather, what would shedo with me? Hence the probation."

  "Is this going to be a long-distance tryout," says I, "with youreportin' for inspection every other Tuesday?"

  He says it ain't. Miss Hampton's idea is to shelve the matrimonyproposition and begin by seein' if they can qualify as friends. Sheshows him how they'd never really seen enough of each other to know ifthey had any common tastes.

  "So I am to go with her to a few concerts, art exhibits, lectures, andso on," says he, "while she has consented to try a week-end yachtingcruise with me. We start Saturday; that is, if I can make up a littleparty. But I don't just know whom to ask."

  "Pardon me if I seem to hint," says I, "but what's the matter withbrother-in-law Ferdie and Marjorie, with Vee and me thrown in for luck?"

  "By Jove!" says he, brightenin' up. "Would you? And would Miss Vee?"

  "Maybe we could stand it," says I.

  "Done, then!" says he. "I'll 'phone Marjorie at once."

  And you should have watched Mr. Robert for the next few days. Talk aboutconsistent trainin'! Why, he quits goin' to the club, cuts out hislunch-hour, and reports at the office at eight-thirty. Not for business,though: Bernard Shaw. Seems he's decided to specialize in Shaw.

  Honest, I finds him one noon with a whole tray of lunch gettin' cold,and him sittin' there with his brow furrowed up over one of them battyplays.

  "Must be some thrillin'," says I.

  "It's clever," says he; "but hanged if I know what it's all about! Imust find out though--I must!"

  He didn't need to state why. I could see him preparin' to swap highbrowchat with Miss Hampton.

  Meanwhile he barely takes time to 'phone a few orders about gettin' thecruisin' yawl ready for the trip. I hear him ring up the Captain, tellhim casual to hire a cook and a couple of extra hands, provision forthree or four days, and be ready to sail Saturday noon. Which ain't theway he usually does it, believe me! Why, I've known him to hold up adirectors' meetin' for an hour while he debated with a yacht tailorwhether a mainsail should be thirty-two foot on the hoist, or thirty-onefoot six. And instead of shippin' up cases of mineral water and cratesof fancy fruit, he has them blamed Shaw books packed careful andexpressed to Travers Island, where the boat is.

  We was to meet there about noon; but it's after eleven before Mr. Robertshuts his desk and sings out to me to come along. We piles into hisroadster and breezes up through town and out towards the Sound. Foundthe whole party waitin' for us at the club-house: Vee and Marjorie andMiss Hampton, all lookin' more or less yachty.

  "Hello!" says Mr. Robert. "Haven't gone aboard yet?"

  "Go aboard what, I'd like to know?" speaks up Marjorie.

  "Why, the _Pyxie_," says he. "See, there she is anchored off--well, whatthe deuce! Pardon me for a moment."

  With that he steps over to a six-foot megaphone swung from the clubveranda and
proceeds to boom out a few remarks.

  "_Pyxie_ ahoy! Hey, there! On board the _Pyxie_!" he roars.

  No response from the _Pyxie_, and just as he's startin' to repeat theperformance up strolls one of the float tenders and hands him a notewhich soon has him gaspy and pink in the ears. It's from his foolcaptain, explainin' how that rich uncle of his in Providence had beentaken very bad again and how he had to go on at once. The message isdated last Wednesday. Course, there's nothing for Mr. Robert to do buttell the crowd just how the case stands.

  "How absurd--just an uncle!" pouts Marjorie. "Now we can't go cruisingat all, and--and I have three pairs of perfectly dear deck shoes that Iwanted to wear!"

  "Really!" says Mr. Robert. "Then we'll go anyway; that is, if you'll allagree to ship as a Corinthian crew. What do you say?" And he glancesdoubtful at Miss Hampton.

  "I'm sure I don't know what that means," says she; "but I am quite readyto try."

  "Oh, let's!" says Vee, clappin' her hands. "I can help."

  "And Ferdie is a splendid sailor," chimes in. Marjorie. "He's crossed adozen times."

  "Then we're off," says Mr. Robert.

  And inside of ten minutes the club launch has landed us, bag andbaggage, on the _Pyxie_.

  She's a roomy, comf'table sort of craft, with a kicker engine stowedunder the cockpit. There's a couple of staterooms, plenty of bunks, anda good big cabin. We leaves the ladies to settle themselves below whileMr. Robert inspects things on deck.

  "Plenty of gasoline, thank goodness!" says he. "And the water butts arefull. We can touch at Greenwich for supplies. Now let's get sail on her,boys."

  And it was rich to see Ferdie, all gussied up in yellow gloves, throwin'his whole one hundred and twenty-three pounds onto a rope. Say, aboutall the yachtin' Ferdie and me had ever done before was to stand aroundand look picturesque. But this was the real thing, and it comes mightynear bein' reg'lar work, take it from me.

  But by the time the girls appeared we had yanked up all the sails thatwas handy, and the _Pyxie_ was slanted over, just scootin' through thechoppy water gay and careless, like she was glad to be tied loose.

  "Isn't this glorious?" exclaims Miss Hampton, steadying herself on thehigh side and glancin' admirin' up at the white sails stretched tightas drumheads.

  I expect that should have been Mr. Robert's cue to shoot off somethingsnappy from Bernard Shaw; but just about then he's busy cuttin' acrossin front of a big coastin' schooner, and all he remarks is:

  "Hey, Torchy! Trim in on that main sheet. Trim in, you duffer! Pull!That's it. Now make fast."

  Nothin' fancy about Mr. Robert's yachtin' outfit. He's costumed in anold pair of wide-bottomed white ducks some splashed with paint, and withhis sleeves rolled up and a faded old cap pulled down over his eyes hesure looks like business. I could see Miss Hampton glancin' at him sortof curious.

  But he don't have time to glance back; for we was zigzaggin' up theSound, dodgin' steamers and motor-boats and other yachts, and he waskeepin' both eyes peeled. Every now and then too something had to bedone in a hurry.

  "Ready about!" he'd call. "Now! Hard alee! Leggo that jib sheet--you,Ferdie. Slack it off. Now trim in on the other side. Flatter. Oh, haulit home!"

  And I expect Ferdie and me wa'n't any too much help.

  "Why, I never knew that yachting could be so exciting," says MissHampton. "It's really quite a game, isn't it?"

  "Especially with a green crew," says Mr. Robert.

  "But what a splendid breeze!"

  "It'll be fresh enough by the time we open up Captain's Island," sayshe. "Just wait!"

  Sure enough, as we gets further up the Sound the harder it blows. Thewaves got bigger too, and begun sloppin' over the bow, up where Ferdiewas managin' the jib.

  "Oh, I say!" he sings out. "I'm getting all splashed, you know."

  "Couldn't he have an umbrella?" asks Marjorie.

  "Please," puts in Vee, "let me handle the jib sheets. I've sailed ahalf-rater, and I don't mind getting wet, not a bit."

  "Then for the love of soup go forward and send Ferdie aft!" says Mr.Robert. "Quick now! I'm coming about again. Hard alee!"

  "How wonderful!" says Miss Hampton as she watches Vee juggle the ropesskillful. "I wish I could do that!"

  "Do you?" says Mr. Robert eager. "Perhaps you'll let me teach you how tosail. Would you like to try the wheel? Here! Now this way puts her off,and the other brings her up. See?"

  "N-n-not exactly," says Miss Hampton, grippin' the spokes gingerly.

  It wa'n't any day, though, for a steerin' lesson. Most of the time thedeck was on quite a slant, which seems to amuse Miss Hampton a lot.

  "How odd!" says she. "We're sailing almost on edge, aren't we? Isn't itglorious!"

  Mr. Robert don't seem to be so enthusiastic. He keeps watching the sailsand the water and rollin' the wheel constant.

  "I suppose we really ought to get some of this canvas off her," says he."Ferdie, could you help tie in a reef?"

  "I--I don't know, I'm sure," says Ferdie. "I think perhaps----"

  "This wouldn't be a thinking job," says Mr. Robert. "Of course I mightdouse the mainsail altogether and run under jib and jigger; but--no, Iguess she'll carry it. Ease off on that main sheet a trifle, Torchy."

  We was makin' a straight run for it now, slap up the Sound--and believeme we was breezin' along some swift! Vee had come back with the rest ofus, her hair all sparkled up with salt spray and her eyes shinin', andshows me how to coil up the slack of the sheet like a doormat. On andon we booms, with the land miles away on either side.

  "But see here!" protests Ferdie. "I thought we were to stop atGreenwich for provisions."

  "Make in there against this head wind?" says Mr. Robert. "Not to-day."

  It's comin' in heavy puffs now, and the sky is cloudin' up some. Two orthree times Mr. Robert heads the _Pyxie_ up into it and debates abouttakin' in the mainsail. Then he decides it would be better to square offand make for some cove he knows of on the north shore of Long Island. Sowe let out the sheet a bit more and go plungin' along.

  Must have been about four o'clock when it got to blowin' hardest. A puffwould hit us and souse the bow under, with the spray flyin' clear overus. We'd heel until the water was runnin' white along the lee deck frombow to stern. Then it would let up a bit, and the yacht would straightenand sort of shake herself before another came.

  "I think we'll have to slack away on our peak and spill some of thisover the gaff," says Mr. Robert. "Torchy, stand by that halyard, andwhen I give the word----"

  Cr-r-r-rack! It come mighty abrupt. For a minute I can't make out whathas happened; but when I sees the mast stagger and go lurchin'overboard, sail and all, I thought it was a case of women and childrenfirst.

  "Oh, dear! How dreadful of you, Robert!" wails Ferdie. "We're wrecked!Help! Help!"

  "Oh, dry up, Ferdie!" says Mr. Robert. "No hysterics, please. Can't welose a mast or so without gettin' panicky? Just a weak turn-buckle onthe weather stay, that's all. Here, Vee, take the wheel, will you, andsee if you can keep her headed into it while we chop away this wreckage.Torchy, you'll find a couple of axes over the forward lockers. Get 'emup. Lively, now!"

  We hacked away reckless, choppin' through wire stays and ropes, until wehas it all clear. Then we trims in the jigger and gets away from it. Twominutes later and we've got the engine started and are wallowin' alongtowards land. It was near six before we made the cove and anchored insmooth water behind a little point.

  Meanwhile the girls had gone below to explore the galley, and when wefin'lly makes everything snug, and trails on down into the cabin to seehow they're comin' on, what do we find but the table all set andMarjorie fillin' the water glasses. Also there's a welcome smell of fooddriftin' about.

  "Well, well!" says Mr. Robert. "Found something to eat, did you? What'sthe menu?"

  "Smothered potatoes with salt pork, baked beans, hard-tack, andcoffee," says Marjorie. "Here it comes."

  And, say, maybe that don't sound so thrillin' t
o you, but to me itlistens luscious.

  "By Jove!" says Mr. Robert, after he's sampled the layout. "Who's thecook!"

  Vee says it was Miss Hampton.

  "Wha-a-at?" says he, starin'. "Not really?"

  Miss Hampton comes back at him with that quirky smile of hers. "Why theintense surprise?" says she.

  "But I didn't dream," says Mr. Robert, "that you ever did anythingso--er----"

  "Commonplace?"

  "Early-Victorian," he corrects.

  "Cook?" says she. "Oh, dear, yes! I can wash dishes, too."

  "Can you?" says he. "I'm fine at wiping 'em."

  "Such conceit!" says she.

  "Then I'll prove it," says he, "right after dinner."

  "I'll help you, Robert," says Marjorie.

  "My dear sister," says he, "please consider the size of the _Pyxie's_galley."

  So, as there didn't seem to be any more competition, after we'd finishedeverything in sight we left the two of 'em joshin' away merry, doin' thedishes. Later on, while Ferdie's pokin' around, he makes a discovery.

  "Oh, I say, Bob," he calls down, "there's a box up here that hasn't beenopened. Groceries, I think. Come have a look at it."

  Mr. Robert he takes one glance and turns away disgusted. "No," says he."I know what's in there. No use at all on this trip." Then, as he passesme he whispers: "I say, when you get a chance, chuck that box overboard,will you?"

  I nods, grinnin', and explains confidential to Vee.

  And half an hour or so afterwards, ten perfectly good volumes of BernardShaw splashed overboard.

  Next we sends Ferdie to take a peek down the companionway and report.

  "They're looking at a chart," says he.

  "Same side of the table," says I, "or opposite?"

  "Why, they're both on one side."

  "Huh!" says I, nudgin' Vee. "That highbrow line might work out in time,but for a quick get-together proposition I'm backin' the dishpan."